


If It's A Mess You're In

by FifteenDozenTimes



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Come Shot, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifteenDozenTimes/pseuds/FifteenDozenTimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian doesn't just want to get fucked, he wants to get <em>filthy</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It's A Mess You're In

**Author's Note:**

> Um basically I wanted fic where Brendon and Spencer come all over Ian's tattoos, particularly [this one](http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lpfoj4rJgi1qa3h7po5_500.jpg), and [this one](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lpfoj4rJgi1qa3h7po1_500.jpg), and [this one](http://27.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lpfoj4rJgi1qa3h7po6_500.jpg).
> 
> Looked over for me by the awesome [LittleMousling](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMousling/).

Ian spreads his legs wider so Spencer’s come splashes right between his cheeks; one spurt catches on the rim of his asshole, drips inside, and Brendon has to squeeze the base of his dick so he doesn’t come right then, Jesus fuck.

“Please,” Ian says, pushing his ass back towards them, and Spencer rolls his eyes.

“You just got what you asked for, pushy.” He smacks Ian’s ass, lightly, just enough to make him jump a little, but the come on Spencer’s hand makes a wet _thwack_ on Ian’s skin and if Brendon doesn’t put his dick in something soon he’s going to die. “Be patient.”

Ian’s been patient, so patient; he’s let them move him around, tie him up and untie him and push him to his knees and roll him over on his back, let them finger him while he jerks off and suck them one at a time, both together, let Brendon put a plug in him when they stopped for lunch and Spencer replace the plug with his cock when they finished. There’s come everywhere, but mostly on Ian, and he’s asking for more when he’s had so much already.

“He doesn’t have to,” Brendon says, slicks his fingers through the come on Ian’s ass and pushes three inside. “He’s been so good.”

Ian whines and clenches around Brendon so tight it goes right to his dick. Ian’s still so _needy_ , asking for it with every line of his body and the whines slipping between his lips.

“Gonna fuck you,” Brendon promises, curls his fingers to press against Ian’s prostate until he cries out. Spencer shifts up the bed, settles in front of Ian and coaxes him to rest his forehead on Spencer’s thigh. “Gonna make you want it first.”

“Want it,” Ian whines, rolling his hips back against Brendon’s fingers while Spencer combs through his curls, soothing. “Just fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Brendon says, eases his fingers out of Ian’s stretched hole, rubs them around the rim just to enjoy the way he twitches, the way Spencer’s come looks on his skin. It’s a good look for him, and fuck even if Brendon wanted to make Ian wait any longer he’s not sure he can go much longer without fucking him.

Brendon thinks about lubing himself up with the rest of Spencer’s come, but Ian’s so slick and open he doesn’t need it, and if Brendon touches himself he might die. As it is, he thinks he deserves some kind of award for not coming the second the head of his dick pushes into the tight heat of Ian’s ass.

He’ll have to ask for that reward when his brain stops melting, though; Ian clenches around him, drawing him in, and he’s so tight even after all this, so—fuck. Ian’s not even forming words anymore, just high desperate whimper-moans as Brendon shoves in, takes a minute when he’s balls-deep to catch his breath.

Ian starts—shit, starts _shaking_ when Brendon starts fucking him in earnest, little shudders that reverberate from Brendon’s cock all the way down to his fucking toes. Brendon’s so turned on he can feel _everything_ , the way Ian clenches when he pulls back, shakes when he fucks back in, Hell, he can almost feel the noises he’s knocking out of Ian on every thrust.

It’s too—“Fuck, Ian,” he gasps out, “you’re so—“

“Brendon,” Spencer says, warning; there’s a plan, and tonight’s not the kind of night he wants to goad Spencer into punishing him. Tonight’s for Ian, and Ian asked so nicely, and Ian’s been so good.

Pulling out is the hardest thing in the world, next to Brendon’s aching dick, but he does it. Ian sprawls flat on the bed as soon as Brendon lets go of his hips, too far gone to hold himself up, but that’s fine, that’s what Brendon needs. He scoots up so he’s straddling the center of Ian’s back, and it just takes one, two strokes before he’s coming all over Ian’s tattoo, white on black on Ian’s pretty pale skin.

Spencer doesn’t waste a second after Brendon flops over onto his back, eases Ian over next to him and kneels up next to Ian. Spencer’s hard again, but he hisses when he wraps his fist around his dick; he’s not usually into pushing, to seeing how many times he can get off the way Brendon and Ian are.

“You don’t have to,” Ian mumbles, thick with arousal, eyes following every stroke of Spencer’s hand hungrily.

“Shut up,” Spencer says, speeding up his hand, “and show me.”

Ian obeys, sticks out his lower lip to expose the faded tattoo there.

“Yeah,” Spencer says, “fuck,” and with a twist of his hand over the head comes, weak spurts hitting the dove on Ian’s chest, up his neck, dripping onto the lip tattoo. Ian looks fucking _filthy_ like this, so fucking—covered in their come, pupils blown, pliant and fucked-out. Brendon kind of wishes Spencer’s camera were in reach, but he settles for letting the image sear itself into his memory while he leans over to kiss Ian, suck the come off his lip and share it with him.


End file.
